Stalker
by iluvtorun
Summary: Following an escape from prison, a bad guy begins stalking the team-plotting a way to exact his revenge. Based on speculation on the identity of the Season 8 stalker. I don't own Criminal Minds, but I sure do love it, so enjoy!
1. Chapter 1-Thankful

_AN: So one of the big mysteries of Season 8 so far is the team's stalker. I was reading a blog (yes, that obsessed) where someone commented that they knew who the stalker was—it was someone with a photography background from a previous episode. Because I just finished writing** From** **Bad to Worse** and had watched 7x20, the Company, more than once in an attempt to get things right, of course Malcolm Ford popped into my head. Don't think that's actually the case, because I'm sure Morgan would know if he was out of jail. But never the less, here we go. And I suppose this could be considered a sequel to **From Bad to Worse**, for those who asked for one. I'll probably post chapters in blocks, I really don't like to leave people hanging! A bit nervous about tapping into what has the potential to be an elaborate story line. Enjoy. I don't own Criminal Minds. Sad, I know. Thanks CBS for giving us such great characters to work with!_

Chapter 1—Thankful

Special Supervisory Agent Derek Morgan closed the case file he was reviewing, stretching his arms above his head and leaning back in his chair. It had been a long ass day to end a long ass week after what felt like a too-long month. Apparently yesterday was Thanksgiving, but Derek had completely skipped over the holiday this year in an effort to lighten the paperwork load for his team's direct supervisor, Aaron Hotchner. Hotch was a single dad, and Morgan knew every single bit of paperwork he did for his boss gave him more time home with his son. It wasn't like Derek had any family in the area anyway—his entire family was in Chicago.

Morgan eyed his couch again. He had spent the past several nights there, feeling no reason waste time commuting to his empty, lonely home when there was so much work to be done. Time when he wasn't working could be spent thinking, and that was something he tried very hard not to do these days. Especially not after the cases of the past month—their list of collars for November included a family annihilator, a serial rapist and a collector who specialized in 10 year old girls. Not to mention the horror of the open cases they were consulting on right now. So Morgan was quite happy to spend one more night on his office couch. Tomorrow, though, he would have to go home—at least for a shower.

Just as he was rising from his office chair to collapse on the couch, there was a soft knock at his partially closed office door.

"Hot stuff, _please_ tell me you haven't been sleeping in the office since you guys got back from Omaha?" Penelope Garcia, the team's technical analyst and his absolute favorite person in the world, shook a bejeweled finger at him. She was, as always, an absolute ray of sunshine in the darkest night—dressed in a festive orange and brown sweater, her hair up in crazy blonde pigtails with turkey hair ties. Most women in their late thirties would look utterly ridiculous with turkey pigtails, but they suited his baby girl just fine.

"Fine," he said with a laugh, "I plead the fifth."

She grabbed his jacket and keys with one hand, his hand with her other, and pulled him out the door. "Why on earth did you stay here yesterday? J.J. would have been happy to have you her place, you know. And I honestly could have used a distraction from their domestic bliss." She was dragging him toward the elevator as she gave him the lowdown on thanksgiving dinner with their teammate and her family. "It was fun, and I'm so glad they are happy, but sometimes I feel so out of place. I only had Henry to keep me company. But at least he likes to play fun games!" Garcia was J.J.'s son Henry's Godmother, and loved playing that roll to the nines.

"Um, baby, where are we going?" He asked as they exited into the parking garage.

She glared at him and pointed a finger, complete with orange nail polish, at him as she wrinkled her nose. "You're choice handsome—dinner out or dinner in. But obviously you need to vent. I can't believe you worked through Thanksgiving! What gives?"

He sighed. He was both relieved and not that she knew him so well. "In," he muttered, knowing it was pointless to argue with her. He knew he would tell her what was getting to him, and he would just as soon there be no one who was attempting to eat nearby to overhear what he had to say. It was far too gruesome for unsuspecting ears. "You pick where we get food from though." As she pulled her classic Caddy, Esther, out of the parking garage, it occurred to him that he was no longer drop dead exhausted. In fact, he felt alive for the first time in days . . . which was always the way of it when he spent time with Garcia.

They had a routine for the evenings like this. Evenings when they both knew there was something on Morgan's mind that was affecting him in a major way. First they would eat. They would make small talk; Garcia would distract him with random tidbits about her week—techie gossip, silly things Henry or Jack had done when she spent time with them, crappy coffee at Starbucks—just idle conversation that Morgan knew was specifically designed to ease the ache in his head and his heart. After dinner they would pick out a movie. They would settle on the couch, but instead of hitting play they would talk. Usually _he_ would talk, and she would listen. And when he had finally expelled all the shit that had been making him go crazy, she would say something that made everything make sense. Then she would settle against him and hit the play button. They would laugh together. More often than not, they would fall asleep on the couch.

This time was no different—after dinner Morgan told her how all of the blood and death of the past month had caught up to him. It was hard for it not to, given the nature of their work. He often wondered how everyone else in the team dealt with it. He knew J.J. had Will, and he balanced her out well. Because he was in law enforcement too, he could handle the innate horror of their work. He supposed Reid broke everything down to statistics. He worried about the kid though, he only really had the team and he held much of his feelings back. He had no idea about Blake either—she was still new to the team and kept her personal details to herself. Rossi, he supposed, drowned out any darkness in his heart with scotch and women. He had been doing this far longer than the rest of them, so he obviously had a good handle on coping. Hotch had seen such personal horror, when his ex-wife had been murdered by a psychopath known as the Reaper, that Morgan considered it a miracle the man was able to function at all. And yet Hotch handled things better than the rest of them. It was nice to finally see the man give himself permission to have a life again—for the first time since Hayley's death, he was in a steady relationship. Even though his girlfriend, Beth, had moved to New York, Hotch and Jack often took the train to see her. In fact, that was where they spent Thanksgiving.

Once upon a time, in what seemed a former life, he would use Rossi's coping mechanism—alcohol and a hot, willing woman. He had found that to be less and less effective for filling the void in the past few years. Lately, meaningless sex had served to increase the emptiness that almost overwhelmed him, rather than dull it. Although if he were being honest with himself, it was much longer than "lately"—things had been changing for him ever since Garcia was shot, nearly four and a half years before. For the past two years or so, she was the only thing that truly made him feel better. When the darkness overwhelmed him, he had to get his dose of sunshine for her, or he would fear that the abyss would swallow him whole.

His baby girl truly believed that everything happened for a reason. So she was able to absorb all that he said, pair it with what she knew from her side of the case, and tell him something that made him feel better. Sometimes all she could say was "You did all that you could." Coming from her though, it was always enough. Tonight was no different; she held him and told him he made a difference in the world. Then she pushed the play button and the movie began. They watched _Elf_ because it was the official beginning of the holiday season. They laughed together. But he spent as much time watching her as he did watching the movie, playing gently with the ends of her hair. He knew he was lost without her, and sent up a sincere thank you to whatever God might be listening for having her in his life. He was asleep before Will Ferrell ended up in New York City.


	2. Chapter 2-Escape

_AN: I don't own Criminal Minds. Sigh._

Chapter 2-Escape

Garcia chuckled at something ridiculous that Will Ferrell's character did on screen. The lack of response from her Chocolate Thunder had her glancing up at him, even though she could tell from the even cadence of his breath that he was asleep. She couldn't help herself; the man was simply delightful to look at. She still couldn't believe he had run himself so ragged again. He felt the need to protect everyone and everything around him, and took every single loss so personally that she often feared it would consume him. She made it her personal mission in life to make sure he came back from the edge whole.

She turned off the movie then spread a blanket over her noir hero. She set about tidying up her small living space, and then slipped behind the beaded curtain to her bedroom. She took a quick shower, and then dressed in fleece P.J.s with snowmen over them. The temperature was dropping pretty quickly tonight, if the forecasters were right it may not be too long until they had real snow in Quantico. She climbed into bed, thinking of what fun she could have making snowmen with Jack and Henry. It absolutely blew her mind how big her two favorite little guys were getting. She relished making those fun memories with the boys. She knew Jack, especially, needed as much laughter and love in his life as possible. He had lost so much already, but was such a resilient, amazing kid. Her heart ached a bit when she thought of trauma and resilience and the amazing man on her couch. She sighed, knowing nothing good could come from thinking of him as a child, alone and scared. She reminded herself it had made him who he was. Then she, too, drifted off to sleep.

The clock read 12:30 when the sound of Morgan's phone ringing woke her up. She heard his sleep laden voice as he answered, "Morgan." She rolled over, pillowing her head with her hands, wondering if she should go back to sleep or if they were being called in.

"What?" Morgan practically yelled, which sent Garcia jumping from bed and rushing into the living room. "When? How?" He paused, meeting her eyes in the dimly lit room, as he took in what the person on the other. "What about Cindy?"Another pause. "Yeah, okay. Call me if anything changes. Thanks for letting me know." He hung up, muttering some expletives under his breath. Then his phone went sailing across the room.

"Derek?" Garcia asked, tentatively. Anything involving concern for his cousin that got him worked up like this couldn't be a good thing. She had only been away from her masochistic, brainwashing "husband" for about nine months, and Penelope knew that Morgan worried about her constantly.

Morgan scrubbed his hands over his face. "He escaped Penelope," he said, sounding defeated. "Can you believe that? Motherfucker stabbed two guards and managed to escape. Malcolm Ford is out in the wind again. That was the Jergens, the contact we worked with at Chicago P.D. I had asked him to keep me up to date on anything going on with Ford. FUCK!"

That last bit was so loud that Penelope jumped a bit. She slid up behind him and gently wrapped her arms around him, giving him what support she could. "Are you going?"

"I don't know," Morgan sighed. "He's in the wind. They have put two units on Cindy's house in case he tries to go after her. I don't think he'd be that stupid, not right away. He knows that's where we'll look." He turned around in her arms and returned her embrace, resting his head on top hers. "He managed to fly under the radar for _five years_ with her as a hostage. Who knows how long he'll evade Chicago P.D."

She made soothing circles on his back with her hands. "They know who they are looking for this time." The only response from Morgan was a grunt. "Do you want to call Hotch?"

Morgan groaned. "God, Baby, I don't know. On one hand, if something happens I don't want to regret not doing everything in my power. She's family. But my gut says he won't go after her, at least not yet. He'll wait. He'll let the fear debilitate her until she's looking over her shoulder every second. Then he'll make his move, when we least expect it. I can't waste bureau resources early in this when we're most certainly going to need them later."

Even though Garcia believed everything happened for a reason, she couldn't immediately see what good could come from poor Cindy having to deal with anything else in her life. The woman had been beaten until she had no free will, forced to sign a slavery contract which indentured her to her torturer, who she was forced to take as a husband. She had carried and birthed his son, only to have him taken from her and used as leverage to make sure she continued to obey. She had endured five years of an unimaginable hell. The nightmares from that would be more than enough for her to deal with. Now this. "Does she know?"

"Jergens said he'll call her in the morning. He put two units on her house. It may be the last night of peace she has in a while, so I'm inclined to agree." He sighed again, sounding defeated. She could tell he was torn about what to do.

"How about this, hot stuff—I'll book a flight for you to Chicago for the morning. That way you can go and tell Cindy, in person, exactly what you told me. Well, at least the part about him wanting her to be afraid. Make her feel safe, and let her know we're all going to be watching. And then come home. And we—the entire team—will be sure to be ready the moment we're needed."

He kissed her head but didn't say anything. "Derek?" she whispered, "are you okay."

"No, but I'm a hell of a lot better than I would have been if I'd gotten this call in my fucking office." He said gruffly.

She laughed a little. And then sobered immediately as she thought of how close to the edge he had been when she had first found him in his office last night. She shuddered a bit. Feeling the need to keep him close for as long as she could, she drug him to her room and pushed him down on the bed. She grabbed her tablet, found the earliest flight she could to Chicago, and booked him a seat on it. She almost asked if he wanted her to come—she had met Morgan's family when they had found Cindy in March—but knew he would want to focus on making Cindy feel better. "How long do you want to stay?" She asked.

He had laid his head on one of her purple pillows, looking at her with a burning intensity that she didn't understand. "How about a redeye flight Sunday night? I'll come to work a bit late on Monday."

"Done, hot stuff. Itinerary is on your phone, we have roughly 3 hours before we need to go get stuff from your place and hit the airport. Sleep is a good thing." She put her tablet on the bedside and reached for the light. In the dark, she turned to face him again. Even though she could only see his silhouette, she couldn't help but feel he was still looking at her with that same burning intensity. She didn't know what to say—she really didn't want to ask him if he was "okay" again, because it was a stupid question. "Umm . . . Derek?"

He pulled her into his arms then, crushing her to him. The intensity of it took her breath away. He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her neck, running his nose along the line of her collar bone. "God, Penelope, how did I ever survive without you in my life." The irreverent way he said it made her heart miss a beat. His voice almost sounded . . . full of need? That could not be right. The two of them were many things, and "lovers" was the one thing that they were not.

"Shh, rest. You've got a long few days ahead of you." He rolled to his back, and she rested her head against his chest. His arm came around her. No, they were not lovers—would never be lovers, but she couldn't keep herself from whispering "Love you, Derek Morgan."

"Me too baby girl. More than you know." She felt him drift off immediately to sleep, while she stared at the clock contemplating what in the world he had meant by that.


	3. Chapter 3-Pictures

_AN: This one is short . . . Don't own Criminal Minds. _

Chapter 3 – Pictures

He watched Derek Morgan, Mr. Hotheaded F.B.I., walk out of the baggage claim area with his blonde bitch. He had his arm around her hip, holding her close as they walked. Hers was draped over his shoulder. She wore colorful, bright clothing, and laughed at something Morgan said. He raised his camera and took several more pictures.

He had been following her since he had arrived in town. He still had friends who would help him—people he knew secrets about. They had gotten him the camera equipment, a car, spending money . . . and Penelope Garcia's home address. He had seen her, as he had been transferred to holding on the night Morgan had followed them to the cabin. It hadn't taken too much work to find a name to go with the face while he was on the inside.

He had bided his time, watching everything around the prison. Eventually he saw a possibility—a guard who he could manipulate. It was amazing how people would bend to his will, given enough time and effort. He had made sure to kill the guard who helped him, so that no one would discover exactly how he managed to escape. Besides, the man was weak—he deserved death. And now he was free to set the proper order of things straight.

By following the woman over the past 24 hours, he had seen many other faces from the investigation that lead to his incarceration. The skinny kid—Spencer Reid—had lunch with the woman on Sunday. After lunch she had headed to a house where the blonde whore who had talked about leaving her kid in the interrogation room lived. He got pictures of her, her son, and the man who let her walk all over him. His contacts had been able to give him the man's name—William LaMontagne. They also were able to tell him that the man was now her husband.

Now Morgan was back from Chicago. He hadn't been sure if Mr. F.B.I. would go to Cindy or not when news of his escape reached him. He hoped that he would. In fact, he had hoped Derek Morgan would stay in Chicago for a long while—allowing him as much time as he could possibly need to learn as much as he could about the members of the B.A.U. team responsible for his incarceration. After all, someone needed to pay. They all needed to pay.

Morgan and the bitch got into a classic Cadillac and pulled out of the garage. He snapped some shots of it leaving, allowing a few more cars to exit the garage, then pulled out to follow them. Yes, they would all pay. But Morgan most of all.


	4. Chapter 4-Time

_AN: Thanks for the great reviews so far! Don't own the characters. Drat!_

Chapter 4-Time

Morgan sank back in comfortable seat on the jet, closing his eyes and trying to focus on the music playing into his headset instead of the thoughts in his head. December was shaping up to suck as bad as November had. He had returned from Chicago late Sunday night. Garcia had picked him up and taken him by work to pick up his truck. They had done that solely for the purposes of keeping up appearances at work. He knew he was sleeping on her couch again and he didn't want to answer any questions about why he was coming to work with her after leaving his truck at work all weekend. People were just too damn nosey.

Penelope had come through in a big way—she had packed him a fresh go bag and brought several changes of clothes from his apartment. How she knew he didn't want to go home, he didn't know. Hell, _he _didn't even know why he didn't want to go home. He usually liked his house, found it peaceful. Just not lately. Sometimes he wondered what the hell was wrong with him. It was a good thing she packed the go bag for him though—Monday found them leaving for San Diego for a case involving bodies buried on the beach. The case had kept them in California until Friday. The only good thing about being in San Diego is that they had missed the first snowfall in Virginia. By the time they arrived home, the snow was gone, but it remained bitterly cold.

After the case, Morgan had gone home, crashed hard, and spent Saturday doing some projects around the house. They had been called back in Saturday afternoon for a case in Atlanta—another family annihilator case. That one had taken an entire week and had been rather gruesome. The unsub, who they now knew was Leonard Jenkins, had been devolving rapidly and spiraling out of control. He killed four families in the seven days it took them to catch them, and came very close to killing a fifth.

While all of this was going on, very little progress had been made on the escape of Malcolm Ford. He may has well have vanished into thin air. Garcia was looking in to it for him when she had time, which she hadn't had much of. He selfishly hoped she would still be at the B.A.U. when they returned—he missed her. They hadn't had much time to talk lately. And when they had, it had been about work. Or Ford. There seemed to be little room for much else in either of their lives right now. He sighed and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come.

Malcolm Ford sat in the dark room, developing the pictures he had taken the previous day. He felt that he knew the routines of Morgan's team pretty well by now. He knew that his bitch would wait for him to return from the plane. They would probably leave together, even if in their own vehicles. He wondered if Morgan knew his bitch had lunch with a geeky looking guy while he was away. Morgan obviously hadn't taught her any lessons in respect. He had pictures of Garcia with the man. He had pictures of Garcia with Agent Hotchner's little boy. He had pictures of her coming and going from work, shopping, and having coffee.

He had pictures of the rest of the team too, but it was harder to follow them when they were always gone. He knew that the new woman, Blake, did not socialize with the rest of the team. When they had returned last week, she had not gone out with the others when they went for drinks. Morgan and Garcia had not gone either—Morgan had actually gone straight home. That had surprised him a bit, it was the first time Morgan had been to his house since he had arrived in Virginia. He had been wondering if Morgan lived with his bitch.

He would follow them this weekend. After that, he would have what he needed. His plans were nearly solidified. He hung the last of the pictures and headed for the door. Tonight he was following Agent Rossi home—he would spend a bit more time on the lesser players in his little plan while the team was in town.


	5. Chapter 5-Peace

_AN: I really don't know how the freaking writers don't throw them together . . . this is excruciating!_  
_ Hope you guys are enjoying! Don't own Criminal Minds._

Chapter 5-Peace

Morgan walked through the bullpen at the B.A.U. and to his office. He knew he needed to spend a good hour on paperwork. It helped that he had caught some shut eye on the jet—at least now he was running with a low fuel light on instead of being completely on E. The minute he set his bag down, Garcia appeared in his doorway, a cup of coffee in each hand.

He smiled. "Baby girl, please tell me one of those is for me."

She laughed. "Only if you ask very, very nicely."

"Please?" He responded in a teasing tone.

"And tell me how much you missed me?" she teased.

He laughed, but it was only a half-hearted one. He knew he should tease her back, but he was so worn down from everything—Ford, dead kids, dead parents, dead husbands and wives. "I'm afraid if I told you that, I would scare the shit out of you." All levity was gone now. He took a deep breath, then looked up at her. Her mouth was open in a little "oh" and she blinked at him from behind her blue glasses. He couldn't believe he had said that out loud. Quickly he turned and busied himself with gathering the paperwork he needed to complete tonight.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "Derek?" She said tentatively. He exhaled, so torn about what to do. What was wrong with him? He usually had no problem being light and flirtatious with Garcia. But lately he had been showing too much, hinting too often at the depth of his feelings for her. He wasn't worried that she didn't feel the same way, because he was pretty sure there was something more between them. But he _was _worried about scaring her, had been worried about that for some time. His baby girl did not like change, and would most likely lose her shit if he told her how he felt. Because that was just how Penelope reacted to change. But in all seriousness, now was certainly not the time to have an extra layer of complicated in his already complicated life. Not with Ford on the loose.

In the end, he sided with honesty, as he always did with her. He reached up and placed his hand over hers, turning and pulling her into his arms. "I missed you a lot baby girl. I feel like I'm drowning and I don't even understand why." He kissed her forehead then. He could have added, _But it's always easier to breath when you are close, _but the thought of saying that to her scared the shit out of _him._

She nodded, placing her hand on his chest over his heart as she backed away from him. Patting his chest gently, she said "I may be able to help with that." She went back to the front of his desk, where she had deposited the two cups of coffee. Handing him one, she settled on to his office couch. "I was checking in with some of the lesser players from your cousin's case—the names of the families with children who were at the house in the cabin—on the off chance that someone from the whole creepy 'Company' concept has been helping Ford. I found a guy who took out a huge amount of cash-$100,000, shortly before Ford escaped." Derek looked up, amazed but not surprised. If there was something to be found, of course she had found it. "I already sent the name over to Jergens."

"You are brilliant, but you already knew that." He said, smiling for real this time. He settled into his chair and organized the papers he needed to fill out.

"Yup!" She grinned again. "We'll get him sugar, don't stress. Have you talked to your Auntie?"

"Yeah, Cindy is doing as well enough. She seems to be keeping it together. I just don't want her to have to keep looking over her shoulder."

Garcia nodded. She looked a bit angry—he knew she was thinking about all of the things that had been done to Cindy. They both knew she had suffered enough thanks to Malcolm Ford. She came over and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll leave you to your paperwork."

"You're leaving?" He asked, slightly disappointed. It helped knowing she was in her office, just on the other side of the wall.

"No, I've got some work to do on my babies. Another hour, at least." She turned to look at him one last time before she walked out the door. "See, you can't scare me away that easily."

_Holy crap_, Garcia thought as she walked back to her office. What on earth was going on with her hot stuff? He usually got very sullen and angry when things got personal. And anything involving Malcolm Ford was bound to be personal. But lately he'd been practically _poetic_ on more than one occasion. They usually had the flirty banter down pat, but he had been dead serious just now. Just as he had been at her apartment when he told her he loved her more than she could know. The crazy thing was, he hadn't been too far off the mark about it scaring the shit out of her. Was it possible this business with Ford had pushed him closer to the edge than usual? What else could account for the sudden changes in their relationship? It was almost as if they were skating around something important.

Ugh. No, they could NOT go there. She could not imagine crossing that line with him. Okay, yes, she COULD imagine crossing that line with him, because the man's heart was matched by his body and she would have to be dead not to appreciate that. But she couldn't imagine it not changing how things were between them. And that she couldn't bear.

She had lunch with Kevin while the team was away—she often embraced any distraction to keep from worrying over her superheroes. Sometimes she thought about them getting back together, but she still could not imagine herself married to him. It just seemed a stretch. She sighed, and focused on the server maintenance she needed to perform.

"Still hard at work, princess?" She looked up at Morgan, surprised that she hadn't even heard him enter her office.

"You are done already?" She asked, surprised.

"Baby girl, its after 1am. You've been in here for three hours. So yeah, I'm finished. _Already." _He smirked as he added that last bit.

"Ugh, behave!" She growled, shaking her finger at him. "Go home and get some rest."

He leaned against the door, raising an eye brow. _Holy crap_, she thought again. Was he going to make sleeping at her place a nightly thing? Because in the past three nights he'd been in town, he'd spent all but one of them on her couch. Him on her couch wasn't unheard of, but it wasn't a regular occurrence either. "Well, just invite yourself on over then if you want then!" she said with exasperation.

"I sleep better at your place." He said matter-of-factly.

She sighed. "You make it hard to argue hot stuff. Sleep is a good thing. Give me ten."

Always true to her word, they were out the door in ten minutes. Morgan knew he had been pushy, basically inviting himself over. But he didn't want to be away from her. He still had no idea what was going on with him. Maybe it was the holidays. Who knew. He just didn't see any point in wasting his time by himself when he could be spending it with her. In another ten they were at her place. He was headed for her couch when she grabbed his hand, dragging him to her bedroom. "For God sake, Morgan," she growled, "if you are going to make this a regular habit, you may as well sleep in my bed. But keep your damn shirt on, because even this angel has her limits." Without another word, she went to the bathroom and closed the door. He laughed. Yup, he was scaring the hell out of both of them.

He lay back, feeling utterly at home on her purple pillows. Surrounded by everything that was hers, he felt at ease and relaxed. He was almost asleep when she climbed in next to him and rested her head on her arms, watching him, still looking put out. "Sorry if I'm imposing on you, baby girl," he chuckled, unable to help himself.

"Apologies mean more if you aren't laughing when you say them."

He laughed again. "Sorry, my ferocious tech kitten. But I really can't be sad when I get to hold you."

"What the hell is going on Derek?" She was being utterly serious. He groaned, again thinking honesty was probably best.

"I don't know, and I don't want to think about it right now. I want to sleep, and I want to hold you. All I know is I feel better when I'm with you."

She looked at him, and didn't say a single word.

"Damn, shocked you into silence." He laughed again. "Don't over-think it, baby girl. I'm trying not to." He kissed her on the nose, tucked her into his side, and fell fast asleep. Peace at last.


	6. Chapter 6-Calm

_AN: Thanks for all the great reviews. This chapter was awkward to write-I know all of US are ready for them to dive in to their feelings, but it never really works out that way in real life. So, here's my shot at them dancing around it for a while longer. And its also the last chapter that isn't going to be angsty for a while, so enjoy it while you can. I don't own them, still. Boo. _

Chapter 6 –Calm

He sat in his car and photographed all of them in the park. Despite the cold, the entire team had gathered at a park on Saturday morning. The blonde's little boy played on the playground with Hotchner's little boy, while Morgan's bitch danced around after them, laughing. Ford raised his camera and took several more pictures of them all. The blonde's husband was there too. Even Blake was present, sipping coffee and laughing with the other agents. Ford smiled. They would not be laughing on Monday. When they left, he would follow Blake, since she was still largely a mystery.

Garcia chased Jack and Henry around the playground, laughing. She was so glad everyone had agreed to get together—her superheroes had been traveling so much lately, she missed them all. It was a nice way to spend a Saturday morning, enjoying the fresh, albeit cold, air. The children's laughter made the beautiful morning even brighter. She loved to play with her two little Junior G men. She looked over at the rest of the team, sitting at a picnic table sipping coffee. Morgan looked up and met her eyes just then. She felt heat rush to her cold cheeks.

What was going on with the man? He had been gone when she had woken up, out early for a run. He had returned with coffee and bagels from the coffee shop up the street. They had enjoyed a pleasant morning together, chatting about inconsequential things. She had tried several times to bring up the odd things he had been saying, but she kept chickening out. Talking about it meant something was going to change. She didn't know how she knew that, but she was sure of it, with every fiber of her being.

J.J. had called then, telling her Henry had been begging to see her. He loved his Godmother. One thing had lead to another and soon the whole team was gathered at a nearby playground. She had invited Blake out of courtesy and had been shocked when she had actually showed up. Garcia had a feeling she was still unsure of her place within the closely knit B.A.U. team.

Jack broke her out of her reverie by declaring "I don't think I can feel my nose anymore!" It _was_ rather cold outside. Looking at her watch, she was surprised to see it was nearly noon. She rounded up the boys and headed over to the rest of the adults, thinking that lunch was in order.

Morgan couldn't believe how quickly the day had slipped away. It had been enjoyable to spend the morning and early afternoon with the team, without needing to talk about death or delve into the minds of criminals. They hadn't been doing that enough lately. Leave it to his Baby Girl to right that little wrong in their world. After lunch, he had taken her to see a movie—something else they hadn't done in a while. It was some silly romantic affair, and he spent most of the time thinking about her instead of the watching the movie. He knew she was curious about the things he had been saying lately, but she hadn't gotten up the courage to ask him about it yet. He was both relieved, and not. He wanted to talk it out with her, but was scared it was too soon for her. Not to mention all the craziness that Ford being loose brought into the equation.

Despite the worry over his feelings for the woman sitting beside him, worry over Ford, worry over his cousin . . . despite all of that that, he felt renewed after spending the day relaxing. He knew that was probably his girl's intention all along. She worried about the job getting to all of them. She was, without a doubt, the heart and soul of the team. He could swear he practically felt his own heart clench as he thought that, and knew that pretty much summed up how he felt about her too. When had he started spewing so many lines from romantic novels, anyway? He didn't even know what he would say to Penelope if she asked him what was up with the things he had been saying lately—he honestly didn't fully understand it himself. He had felt the same way about her for a long time. He had even admitted to himself, back in March after Cindy was found, that he was in love with her. He had decided that he would wait for her to be ready. He really wasn't sure she was yet, so he had no clue why he kept saying things that would make her bring the subject up.

The movie ended, and they headed out into the cold, bright afternoon. "What next, hot stuff?" Garcia asked as he put his arm around her and pulled her against his side.

"I dunno, your call beautiful. I'm all yours."

"Hmmm, promises, promises. Well, chasing those boys this morning wore me out—I'm content to go back to my place and read for the rest of the afternoon. I have no idea how J.J. does it!"

"Sounds good to me," he laughed.

She stopped dead and turned to look at him. "You aren't going home again tonight, are you?" She was all serious again.

"Do you want me to?" He met her eyes.

"No, but I don't understand any of this Derek."

He laughed again, pulling her back to his side as they continued to walk. "Join the club, sweetness."

They spent the afternoon being lazy and ordered take out. It never ceased to amaze Morgan how easy it was to be with Garcia. Any other woman he had tried to be in a relationship with required endless conversation. It always felt like work. With her, he was utterly himself—there was no need for pretenses or trying to be something he wasn't. She always called him on his bullshit when he was being stupid, and didn't let him get hung up inside his head when things didn't go well. She was strong and capable and brilliant.

And _crap, _she was staring at him. He knew what she was going to say before she even opened her mouth. "So, really, Morgan, what's going on? I love having you here, but you don't even go to your own place anymore. And you are being _poetic _lately, for goodness sake!" She sounded insulted when she said that last bit. He couldn't help it, he laughed. He knew she probably wouldn't appreciate it. It was just that she looked so indignant at the moment.

"Like I said before, Baby Girl, I really don't get it either. Everything sucks lately, and it doesn't suck anymore when I'm with you." She smiled at him, reached out and took his hand. "Actually, that is a gross oversimplification . . . My life has been feeling emptier and emptier for a while. . ." He groaned, this was so hard to say out loud. "Baby, I'm just done playing at being happy. I'm ready to actually be happy. And that means being with you. Always has." She opened her mouth to say something but he stopped her cold, shaking his head. "And I am also scared to say too much, because you freaked out when you figured out Lynch was going to propose. You are irreplaceable to me, so it's rather important I don't fuck this up."

Now she was laughing. "I _am_ often imitated, but never duplicated." She placed the hand she was holding over her heart. "I don't want you to be empty, angelfish. I always feel better when I'm with you too. We'll start from there and not be too crazy, okay?"

He kissed her nose and pulled her into his arms. "That will work . . . for now."

He spent the night on the couch, because something had shifted. They had ever so carefully put a crack in the wall between friends and something more. He was absolutely certain that they would be "too crazy" if he held her in his arms in her bed again.

Sunday was more of the same—laughter, light and happiness. They didn't realize it was the calm before the storm.


	7. Chapter 7-Storm

_AN: Eeek! I don't own Criminal minds. Enjoy!_

Chapter 7-Storm

Derek's phone rang at 2am. Never, ever a good thing. Garcia heard it from her room, and was up in an instant. It felt like a case of déjà vu—a late night call following any form of down time. She could see the shadow that was her hotstuff sit up on the couch. "Morgan," he said into the phone.

She went to him, sat down and put her hand on his knee. "Cindy? Cindy, slow down honey." He listened, and in the dim room he met her eyes. "When? . . . Can you tell me exactly what he said? . . . Okay, okay. I'm on the next flight there."

"Ford?" she half asked, half stated as he hung up. She dashed to her room and grabbed her tablet, setting about finding him a flight to Chicago.

"He called her. Told her that her vacation was over. That he was coming for her. She's on edge."

"Pfft, I would be too. Who can blame her. That man is such a piece of work. There is a 4am direct flight to Chicago, if we leave now we can get you there in time."

"Let's go then." He went to change. Looking again at the clock, Garcia decided she would head directly to the office after dropping Morgan off at the airport. She knew he would have some things he wanted her to do right away. As they drove, he seemed to slip into team leader mode. "Call the locals and make sure they know what's going on. Have them add another unit until I get there. It's no coincidence that he did this in the middle of the night, something is up. And have Hotch call me as soon as he gets in, okay?"

"Your wish is my command."

He sighed, leaning his head back in the seat. "Thanks, baby. I don't know what I would do without you. Really."

"No sweat at all, angelfish. Just do what you need to."

"I hope this means that we're going to be able to end this soon."

She glanced at him, saw that he looked troubled. "But?"

"But why call and let her know that he is coming? I don't know, it doesn't feel right."

"Maybe he wants to scare her. You said this particular brand of crazy is all about control, right?"

"Yeah, I don't know. I just want this to end." He sighed again and closed his eyes for a moment.

In no time at all, they were there. Garcia pulled up to the drop off area, and stepped out of the car so that she could give him a proper goodbye. She reached out to hug him. To her surprise, he framed her face with his hands, and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. She felt her heart stop right then and there. He stepped back, slinging his go bag over his shoulder.

"Stay safe, okay?" She whispered.

"For you, anything," he said with a smile, then turned toward the terminal.

Garcia climbed back in the car and headed for Quantico. There was much to do.

Derek's feeling of unease grew as he boarded the flight to Chicago. Why would Ford call Cindy? He had to know that her very next call would be to Morgan, and that he would fly out and personally ensure her safety. It just didn't make any sense. He leaned back and ran through everything he knew about Malcolm Ford in his mind.

The sun was rising as his flight landed in Chicago. He turned on his phone as they prepared to deplane. Immediately a text from Garcia popped up:

_Enterprise for rental. Everything else done. No hotch yet._

He smiled. She always got the job done. Of course Hotch wasn't in yet, it was just after six am. Ten minutes later he was in his newly rented car, headed for his Aunt's. Her place was on the other side of Chicago, and it would take nearly an hour to get there even if traffic cooperated. During the drive, Hotch called. He brought him up to date and asked the team to look over things again to see what they thought of Ford's latest move.

As he pulled up to the sedate one story that his Auntie shared with Cindy and her son, he noted that the officers in the two marked cars took immediate notice of him and acted appropriately. He showed them his badge and identified himself. The officers introduced themselves, then proceeded to give him a sit-rep. There had been no further attempts at contact since the phone call. No suspicious vehicles had been seen. Morgan thanked them and turned to enter the house.

It was then that the yellow van, advertising a messenger service pulled up. Both officers put their hands up and asked driver to step out. A young, twenty something man stepped out, hands raised. "Um, I just have a, uh, delivery for Agent Derek Morgan," he said.

Morgan's senses went on high alert. Something was definitely not right here. "A delivery from whom?"

"Uh, can I check my records?" the kid asked, gesturing to a clipboard on the dash of the truck. Morgan nodded his assent. The kid grabbed the board, checked, and said "It was dropped off early yesterday, in person, paid cash. No information given."

"Let me see it." Derek ordered.

The kid reached to the passenger seat and pulled out a manila envelope, bearing only Morgan's name in a plain type face. _Not good_, was all Morgan could think. He asked one of the officer's to take a statement from the kid then sat on his Aunt's cold front step to open the envelope.

The minute he did, he knew this was very, very bad. The envelope contained old-school black and white photos, just like the ones Ford had taken of Cindy before kidnapping her. But the subject of these photos was not Cindy, her son, or anyone else in Chicago. The first photo was of him and Garcia. The next was Jack and Henry at the park, being chased by Garcia. The third was of the entire team, sitting at the picnic table sipping coffee. _Oh shit_.

He picked up the phone and dialed Hotch.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, man, we have a big problem," Morgan said. "He's in Virginia. He's been following the team. He sent me pictures. He's got pictures of the boys, too."

He could hear Hotch moving into the bullpen. "J.J., is Will home with Henry? Good, have him swing by and pick up Jack. Tell him to get the boys here ASAP. Reid, call Jack's Aunt and let him know Will is coming."

"Is everyone already there Hotch?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah, everyone's here." He said. "Wait, what J.J.?" He heard Hotch put his hand over the phone. "Blake, come with me!" Hotch said, and then he was speaking to Morgan again. "Morgan, Garcia went to get coffee from the Starbucks down the street. We're going to go look for her now."

_Oh my God, _Derek thought. This was why Ford had called Cindy. "Find her Hotch." He heard Hotch disconnect the call and hung his head in his hands. Ford had called Cindy so that he would sit in Chicago wondering if his family was safe. _Please, please let her be safe_.

Garcia was so drained from the lack of sleep that only real, hard core coffee would do. Not that watered down junk from the coffee shop in the lobby of F.B.I. Headquarters. She had taken orders from everyone and walked in the brisk cold to the Starbucks down the street. On her right, parked cars lined the street. She had just passed a white van when the door slid open. The world went suddenly, inexplicably dark.

Morgan's phone rang less than five minutes later. "Tell me you have her, Hotch."

The hesitation was answer enough. There was a second or two of dead silence, and Morgan knew he had his answer. "I'm sorry Derek." Nausea rolled in his stomach and blood thundered in his ears. "Morgan?" He could hear Hotch calling him, tried to focus on his voice. "A witness saw her being pulled into a white utility van, not more than a minute before we arrived."

He couldn't focus anymore. Ford had her. The man who had held his cousin captive for five years, who had beaten her, strangled her within inches of her life, placed her head in a head box so that she would "learn her place," had his baby girl. His best friend. The woman who meant more to him than any other in his life. And he was a two hour flight away, just as Ford intended he be. He leaned over and vomited where his Auntie's roses bloomed every spring.

"MORGAN!" Hotch again, trying to pull him together.

"I need to get home Hotch," he said. It came out barely above a whisper.

"I'm going to have one of the officer's drive you to the airport," Hotch said calmly. "We'll get you back here as fast as we can Morgan. Get it together; we're going to need you on this. We _will _find her." He said the last part with such conviction, Morgan felt the slightest blossoming of hope that it would be true.

Then he remembered that Cindy had been missing for five years before they found her. He remembered what was done to her. The nausea rolled in his stomach again.

In the back of his mind, Morgan heard the door to the house open. He knew he needed to get up and walk to the car parked on the street, so that someone could take him to the airport. But he couldn't manage to get up. Cindy sat down next to him. "What's happened, Derek?" She asked, concern in her eyes.

He scrubbed his hands over his head, pressed his palms into his eyes, wishing that it would blot out reality. "He has Penelope," he said. Cindy had met Garcia in the aftermath of her escape from Ford, when Garcia had flown to Chicago to be by Morgan's side. She was always there for him, and here he was _in Chicago_ while she was being taken by . . .

"Derek Morgan, stop that right NOW!" He looked up, shocked that his mildly-spoken cousin had yelled at him. She was looking at him with haunted eyes. Reaching up, she grabbed the lapels of his jacket. "You will keep it together. You will be strong. Because he wants you to be afraid. He wants you to lose control. If you do that, he wins. You have to be strong, because if he took her, this has nothing to do with me and _everything_ to do with you."

He stared up at her, unable to think of anything to say.

"Be smart, Derek. She's smart. She's going to do everything in her power to be okay until you get to her. You can't do that if you fall apart." She stood up, pulling him with her. "Now go."

He hugged her, overwhelmed by her strength. "Thank you, Cin," he whispered.

He went to the squad car, was vaguely aware that one of the officers got in the driver's seat. He leaned his head back and began to pray. _Please keep her safe_. _Please help me keep it together long enough to see her safe. Please._


	8. Chapter 8-Voices

_AN: Thanks everyone for the great reviews! Most of this chapter is a collection of memories and actual quotes from previous episodes, as the both try to cope with what's going on. I don't own the the dialogue, the characters or Criminal Minds. Sure do love them though. _

Chapter 8-Voices

Garcia woke up in a chair. Her hands were behind her back and her feet were secured to the rungs. It felt like they were held there by duct tape. She fought the panic rising in her throat. Closing her eyes against threatening tears, she took deep cleansing breaths. Panic would not help. Falling apart would not help. She had to keep it together and think smart, because she had no doubt that the team would be looking for her. But what had even happened? She remembered walking past the van, hearing the door slide open and then . . . nothing. Who had taken her?

She heard Derek's voice then, in her mind, as she had driven him to the airport earlier that morning. _ "I don't know, it doesn't feel right."_ Was it possible Ford had called Cindy to draw Morgan away? But why would he go after her? It didn't make any sense to her, but she wasn't a profiler and she really didn't want to think about it anyway. What were the chances it _wasn't _Ford? That something else was going on here. She needed Reid and his head for statistics.

_Pump your brakes, Baby Girl_. Derek's voice again. She needed to calm down. Oh, man, Derek was going to FREAK OUT. And she was the one who usually calmed him down, so now who was going to keep him on track? He always felt such personal responsibility for everyone in his life; this would be very hard for him. She wondered if he knew yet. She had no idea how long it had been since she had been taken. She rather hoped he would hear her voice too, so that they could both keep it together long enough to get through this.

She closed her eyes, and tried to think like her superheroes. She would make the assumption, for now, that it was Ford who had taken her. Because she didn't have a clue who else it was and as horrible as he was, it was better than some faceless, unknown horror. She thought back to all of the things Derek had told her about Ford. He was a sadomasochist and a narcissist. He had hurt Cindy until she would no longer try to escape. He had a baby with her, then hid that little boy so that he could hold him over her head to ensure her obedience. _Oh, God_ . . . she started thinking about what all of that meant. Panic rose within her again. Considering she was alone, with no one to witness her breakdown, she figured that it was better to get it out of the way. She let the tears come. In her mind, she pictured Derek's arms coming around her. She heard voices from the past.

_"I don't need you to protect me."_  
"_Tough, I think I'm going to stay on the job a little bit longer."  
"Yeah? How much longer?"  
"Every day of my life." _

Morgan would find her. The team would find her. She just had to stay alive and sane long enough for that to happen.

The flight home was excruciating. The officer had ushered Derek right past security at O'Hare and straight onto a waiting commercial passenger plane. He hadn't even needed to check his weapon. But sitting there, listening to the stewardesses giving their usual safety briefing, made him feel like he was going to go insane. He was sitting here listening to this, and that bastard had already had Penelope for thirty minutes. He knew altogether too well what a person could do to another person in thirty minutes. His stomach rolled yet again, and he realized he could not afford to think about her with Ford right now. He had to focus on her being safe, otherwise he was going to lose it on this plane and be completely useless to her. He would have to think like a profiler when he arrived at Quantico, so that he could help find her. Cindy was right, if Ford grabbed Garcia, this had to be about getting back at him, or getting back at the team for landing Ford in jail. So Morgan knew he was going to have to be in top form when he got off the plane.

He closed his eyes and took deep breaths. He thought of all the times his woman had put up with his shit on a bad case. He thought of the night Matt Spicer had been killed before his eyes, his daughter taken. He had snapped at her then, actually turned to Hotch after hanging up the phone and said _"She really needs to be more professional sometimes_." He was such an idiot sometimes.

He remembered her words when he had apologized to her. "_Our love is a rock, no bad day can come between us."_ She had promised to leave a light on, which she had, so that he could talk out all of the crazy shit in his head from that horrible experience in L.A.

He remembered his fear, on that day nearly five years before, when he had left a church and discovered he had 25 missed calls from J.J. and Reid. He remembered picking up the phone and listening to the voicemails. _"Morgan, it's J.J. Something has happened, you need to come to Memorial General as soon as you can. Call me when you get this."_

He remembered her pulling him back from the edge when he had been so angry that Malcolm Ford was in custody. He had been stuck processing the scene at a supermarket instead of interrogating Ford. She had reminded him that Cindy needed him, had gotten him to focus on what was in front of him. Cindy had left him a message there that had helped them bring her home, something he would never have seen if Garcia hadn't made him focus on the job at hand. _"So I tell you what, why don't you call me back once you've gotten off the self absorption train and decide to be a real hero, the kind that Cindy is waiting for. I am hanging up on you!"_

And then of course he was thinking the fact that Ford had her again, and he felt that debilitating nausea again. It felt as if someone were trying to crush his chest. He had to find her. There really wasn't any other option. He put his headphones on then, and tried to lose himself in the music. But almost every song reminded him of her. He closed his eyes and tried to rest, so that he could focus on the job at hand when the plane landed.


	9. Chapter 9-Search

_AN: I don't own Criminal Minds. Or the memories Morgan has . . .sigh._

Chapter 9-Search

Morgan wasn't surprised that it was J.J. who met him at the airport. Garcia meant a lot to everyone on the team, but Morgan and J.J. were her best friends. J.J.'s eyes were red rimmed, and he knew she probably had to try nearly as hard as he did to keep it together. She hugged him, something they didn't do often. He heard her exhale a shaky breath. "Where are we?" He asked, almost scared to hear the answer.

J.J. stepped back and started walking to the car. "We called Lynch in—the lead Garcia was able to give the Chicago P.D. about Ford's known associates was good one—the guy, Martin Lowell, sang to the locals about how Ford blackmailed him into helping him out. Car, camera equipment, and spending money. That's how he was able to take the pictures he sent you. We've got Lynch digging farther into Ford's background, the families who kept kids at the cabin and into anything to do with The Company. We think it's likely he's using dirt he has on past acquaintances to get help. We're really hoping someone connected with him has property in the area."

As they climbed into the car, Morgan had to admit it was more than he had been expecting. He let J.J. see his fear—he had to get it out of his system before they got to the B.A.U. "He had Cindy for five years before we got him, J.J."

"Yeah, but we know who he is Morgan. That was something you didn't have before. You thought Cindy's stalker had committed suicide. We _know_ Malcolm Ford has her. Every local police officer has his picture. We _will _find him."

"Did you guys make a decision on talking to the media?" Morgan asked. He knew releasing Ford's picture to the media would be a risky move since he had a hostage. If he felt threatened, he may simply kill Garcia and leave the area. Or leave with her. _God_, he hoped they had made that decision already. He couldn't make it. He wasn't entirely sure he could do any of this. But the alternative, doing nothing, really wasn't an option, either.

"We decided to hold off and see if we can get something from Lynch's search. It's not worth the risk right now. If we end up with nothing, we may have to go to the media. We don't have anything else to go on right now."

"Is Lynch keeping it together?" Derek asked. Garcia had been in a steady relationship with the man for four years before they had broken it off. Every single one of them stood to lose big if they couldn't find her.

"He's doing okay. He's not used to the intensity of the B.A.U., and it's harder because he knows her. But he'll get the job done." J.J. sighed. "You know, that's probably why he picked her. Whether he's going after you or going after us, she's integral."

He closed his eyes. His voice cracked. "Yeah, I know that. The team can only do what we do as fast as we do because she takes what we give her and narrows everything down to a manageable size. And she keeps us sane. When you guys broke it down, did you have a feeling which one it is? Me or the team, I mean?"

"I don't know. From what you said about the photos, he was watching all of us. Did you bring them?"

"Yeah, figured boy genius might see something we didn't."

"Good." She said. "The boys are safe by the way. Will has them on the third floor with a couple of other agents. They pitched a tent—camping at work is great fun. They think it's an adventure." She laughed just a bit. Then sobered. "Of course, we haven't told them what's going on. I don't want to have to tell Henry she's . . ."

"You won't." Morgan cut her off. "We have to find her J.J."

"So, anyway, we're leaning toward the theory that he's after you. It seemed like he intentionally drew you to Chicago. We think he wanted you to be helpless in those first hours. . ." She paused, and Morgan knew what she had been ready to say and had held back. _The most important hours_. Because the first hours after an abduction were the most important. Every hour she was gone, her chances went down. The nausea and the pressure in his chest became unbearable again, almost causing him to double over in the passenger seat. _No, no, no. Keep it together, Morgan!_

"So," Derek said, when he could breathe again, "if it's me he's after, what is his end game?"

"It's hard to tell, this early on. He may taunt you with photos of her, to make sure you know you are in control. We'll have to wait and see if he makes contact."

Morgan closed his eyes again. He did not want to do this. What had Penelope Garcia ever done to deserve being this man's pawn? But he knew the answer to that. She hadn't done anything. Most victims never do anything to bring on what happens. They just have terribly bad luck. _Damn it_, he didn't want her to be a victim. Not her.

He wanted to ask what they thought Ford would do to her. But he didn't. He couldn't. It was better not to know what they thought. They were rarely wrong, and he could not listen to them detailing what they expected him to do to her. He just couldn't do it.

They pulled into the parking garage at Quantico. A few minutes later, they exited the elevator and walked into the B.A.U. bullpen. As he walked, he saw her everywhere—little moments they had shared in every corner of this building. Next to the elevator, she had told him how she was worried that she would feel empty if she ever let herself be married. Over by the bookshelves, she had snapped at him not to call her sweetheart after being stuck with Gideon while he was injured. By the doors, she had first told him about meeting Battle, the man who had shot her. The pressure and the nausea were back again. He had to stop, lean against a wall and close his eyes. _Just breathe. Keep it together._

When he opened his eyes again, they were all watching him—J.J., Reid, Rossi, Blake and Hotch. He stood up and walked over to them, perched on the edge of Reid's desk. "What now?" he asked.

"The pictures?" Reid asked. Morgan pulled them out of his bag and gave them to Reid. "There is a photo of Garcia in there that had to have been taken the Monday after Thanksgiving, when we left for San Diego. He's been watching us, or her at least, for two solid weeks."

Reid flipped through the pictures. "It makes sense for him to choose Garcia, even if he didn't single her out because of our emotional attachment to her. She's here when we're not, and she doesn't have the training that we do. He would have known, from following her, that she didn't carry a weapon. She was more accessible than the rest of us."

He stopped and tapped the picture with Jack and Henry. Morgan knew what he was thinking . . . at least Ford had left the kids out of this. That would have been horrible on a whole other level. "He could have gone after the kids," Reid said, "but I don't think that would have given him what he wants. Whether his ultimate target is the team as a whole, or you Morgan, he wants control." Reid looked up, met Morgan's eyes, then looked down at his shoes. It seemed that he was unwilling to be the one to say what needed to be said next.

Blake had no such problem. She had the least emotional attachment to Garcia, and to all of them. "He is going to want to control her like he controlled his past hostage. He will want to break her, probably by strangulation and sensory deprivation. By breaking her, taking her identity, he is probably hoping to hurt Morgan, to take away his control of things. He wants control of everyone for himself."

Before he could stop it, a pained sound escaped Morgan. Blake looked up, eyes wide. He wondered how she couldn't see how hard this was for him, if she didn't realize how important Garcia was in his life. He could hardly bare the look of pity in her eyes. So he closed his eyes and pressed his fingers into them. "Does Lynch have anything yet?" he asked, hoping to change the direction of the conversation.

"Yes, in fact, I think I do." Derek looked up to see Kevin Lynch, looking as geeky as never, striding toward them from Penelope's office. "One of Ford's known associates, an Ian McClellan, owns ten industrial properties in the surrounding area. Here's the list." He handed each of them a copy of paper.

"Good work." Hotch said. He scanned the list. "J.J., you and Reid take the first three. Rossi, Blake, the last three. Morgan, you and I will cover the four in the middle. Lynch, keep digging, just in case this ends up being nothing." Everyone gathered their things and headed out, glad to finally have something to go on.

Hotch stopped Morgan, put his hand on his shoulder. "I need to know you are going to keep it together."

Morgan closed his eyes for a second, then opened them and met Hotch's eyes. "I will. But you know how hard it is when someone you love is in danger."

Hotch nodded. "Tell me if it gets to be too much. Let's go."


	10. Chapter 10-Control

_AN: This sucked to write. Just in case you were wondering! I don't own CM. Enjoy, I guess? I don't know that anyone can enjoy this :-(_

Chapter 10-Control

Garcia had, miraculously, been able to sleep for a little while. After her crying jag, she knew she would need rest. Sleep deprivation was not going to help her cope with what was going to come. She had to figure out how she was going to act when she faced Ford. These types of sickos did what they did because they expected people to react a certain way. From what Morgan had told her, Ford liked women to know their place—he liked to dominate them. So Ford would want her to be submissive, to do what he said. Was it better, or worse to do what he expected? If she acted as he wanted her to, she was letting him win. On the other hand, if she didn't act as he wanted, she was fairly certain he would hurt her. He may try to do that anyway. _Calm down, baby girl._ Derek again. She smiled at his imagined voice.

Behind her, she heard a door that she could not see open. She stared at the brick wall in front of her, willing herself not to cry. She remembered that awful day when George Foyet had taken Hayley and Jack hostage. She remembered what Hotch had said to Hayley, his ex-wife, as he rushed to try and save them. _Show him no fear_.

"Penelope . . ."he drew out her name, making it a taunt. He walked around the chair, coming into her line of vision. It was, indeed, Malcolm Ford. He looked slightly thinner than he did in the mugshots from his arrest after they had found Cindy. His eyes looked dead, and when he pulled back his dark skin into a leering smile, his teeth gleamed big and white. He was every bit as frightening as she had expected. "I wonder what Morgan will do not that I have his colorful white bitch."

She breathed, in and out, twice, before she spoke. _Calm_. "I don't imagine that he will care too much. He'll be glad you aren't terrorizing Cindy again." If he was trying to hurt Derek through her, it couldn't hurt to downplay it.

He laughed. It was a deep, menacing sound that gave Garcia goosebumps. "Don't lie. I don't like liars." She noticed then that he had a belt in his hand. She remembered Morgan telling her that Ford would choke Cindy to scare her. He would expect her to be scared. Should she scream, as he expected, or show him no fear? She didn't know what to do. So she closed her eyes and remained silent. She heard him step close, felt the belt wrap around her neck. She felt it tighten. He was going to kill her.

Garcia wanted to scream, wanted to panic, but she heard Derek in her mind. Not words he had ever said before, but what he would say to her now. _He's going to try and scare you. He doesn't want to kill you. I will come for you._ Tears leaked from her eyes, but she managed not to scream out. As darkness swam in her mind, she felt the pressure release. She gasped, opening her eyes again. He was still smiling. "You aren't going to yell? No begging? No screaming?"

She raised her chin. Whether it was the right thing or not, she realized she would not give him the satisfaction. This man who had terrorized Cindy for so long. "You should know," she said evenly, "That Cindy is amazing. She is going back to school, and she is happy. You can't take that from her. You don't own her anymore. She is free." She smiled at him. She wanted him to understand that he did not ruin Cindy, even if it made him mad. His smile had faded. She saw his nostrils flare in rage. He stepped forward with the belt again. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing, until the belt constricted again and breathing became impossible. Then she thought of Morgan.

_"Hey, silly girl. I love you, you know that right?"_

She stopped keeping track of how many times he did it. She refused to scream or beg, although tears streamed unchecked down her face. She heard Ford growl in frustration. She knew it wasn't smart, but she wanted to make him mad. Wanted to let him know he didn't own her. "What's wrong, Malcolm? Did you lose your touch in prison?" He yelled then, and came at her with his fists balled. He hit her square in the face, knocking her chair over. He kicked her a few times, and the world faded to black. She heard Derek again as she welcomed the blackness. _Too far, baby girl, you pushed him too far. Don't make him angry next time. Give me time to get there. _

J.J., Reid, Rossi and Blake had come up with nothing at the buildings they searched. Morgan and Hotch found nothing in their first two buildings either. At the third, they struck the jackpot. One of the inner rooms of the two story building had been converted to a dark room. Hanging everywhere were pictures of the team. There was more of Penelope than anyone else. Derek touched one of the two of them, running his finger along the contour of her jaw. It was from the Sunday after Thanksgiving, when he had returned from Chicago.

"Morgan," Hotch said. "Over here."

Morgan walked over to the wall where Hotch stood. A fresh batch of pictures was hanging to dry. "Oh hell," he groaned. There were pictures of her: unconscious in a van; secured to a chair with duct tape. But it was the last one that made his blood chill far more than the others. She was still secured to the chair, but her neck looked bruised, as if she had been strangled. Because it was in black and white, it was hard to tell exactly how bad the bruising was. Her eyes were closed. There was a horrible bruise forming along her jaw and it looked like there was blood on the yellow dress she had put on that morning, before taking him to the airport. Had it really just been that morning, just twelve hours ago, that he had last held her safe in his arms? He realized he made that guttural sound again as he bent over. He felt Hotch's hand on his shoulder.

"Morgan, there's a note."

He breathed deep, trying to focus on the yellow paper Hotch held out to him.

_Your control is an illusion. Mine is absolute._

He had to get out of there. Morgan walked as quickly as he could out of the building, back to the SUV. He would let Hotch be sure there was nothing else of merit in the dark room. If he kept his dark room in this building, and left a note, it was highly unlikely that she was being held at the last building on their list. He sat in the car, regaining control of his breathing and his emotions. He called J.J., asking her to check out the last address, just in case. Then he called Lynch, hoping that he had found another lead. _Please God, help me find her. Before it's too late._


	11. Chapter 11-Found

_AN: So this surprised me. I always think its funny when people say things like that, but a solution presented itself sooner than I figured it would . . . hope you enjoy! I don't own CM._

Chapter 11-Found

He drove quickly toward the warehouse where Morgan's bitch was. That had been entirely too close. Ford started the car and pulled away from the two story building his dark room had been housed in. He didn't know how they had found it so quickly—he had planted a note for Morgan with the intention of calling them and giving them a clue about the location of the building. He had not expected them to find it on their own. He most certainly had not expected them to pull up mere minutes after he had finished developing his most recent role of film. He had barely made into his car when the black SUV had pulled up in front of the building. At least he had parked down the street, instead of in the spot directly in front of the door. He had dunked down across the passenger seat until Morgan and Hotchner were inside. Then he drove for the other warehouse. If they knew about one—they would know about the other.

When Garcia woke up, she was sitting upright again. Her jaw, neck, and ribs throbbed. She took an inventory of herself for any other aches and pains, but didn't find anything noteworthy. Her hands and shoulders hurt from the way they were bound, but that was minor, all things considered. She was again facing the brick wall. She realized there must be windows behind her, because the shadows in the room had changed direction. It must be late afternoon now. By now, Morgan must know that she is missing. He was most certainly back from Chicago and looking for her.

She was surprised as the door banged open. When Ford had last come in, he had been quiet, collected. This was very different from last time. "Oh my God, Garcia!" J.J.'s voice cried out.

"J.J.?" She could hardly believe her ears.

"Reid, go move the car now!" J.J. yelled. A few moments later she appeared in front of Garcia. Now Penelope finally came undone. She cried as J.J. cut the tape that bound her to the chair and threw her arms around her. "Come on, we have to move," J.J. said. "I'm not even sure how this happened, but we got ahead of him and he can't be far behind." She pulled Penelope up, and together they moved out of the room.

Morgan's phone rang. He glanced at the caller I.D. It was J.J. Probably calling to report a whole bunch of nothing from that last address. "Morgan."

"Hey sugar, miss me?"

He couldn't believe his ears. "Penelope?" he whispered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hotch do a double take before returning his gaze to the road. He was nearly overcome, simply from hearing her voice again. "Just a tiny bit, yeah. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, J.J. found me. Here, you talk to her. Just wanted to hear your voice."

He couldn't breathe again, but this time it was out of gratefulness rather than fear. She was with J.J. She was alive, and well enough to speak to him. He pressed the speaker phone button, so that Hotch would know what was going on. He could hear J.J. and Garcia moving quickly through wherever they were as J.J. spoke to him. "We got ahead of him. I think he must not have expected us to find the dark room on our own—he probably was going to hint to us about it, otherwise why leave the note? I think he either doesn't know we found it, or he knows and he's on his way here to move Garcia. You guys need to get here right away. Reid moved the car, so we wouldn't tip him off that we're here."

Hotch's phone rang. "It's Reid," he said. He put his phone on speaker as well. "Hotch, Ford just pulled up in front of J.J. and Garcia's location. I can't get to them without making it obvious we're on to him. I just moved the car around the corner, so he doesn't know we're here."

"Did you get that J.J.?" Morgan asked.

"Yeah. I think I hear something, I have to go."

Just like that, the line went dead. "Reid, watch the front door until we arrive." Hotch ordered. " We'll have to trust J.J. will be able to evade him for a few minutes. That building is too large for you to sweep on your own. We're about five minutes out." Disconnecting the call, he turned on the lights and floored it.

He walked into the room and froze. The fucking chair was empty. The blonde bitch he was planning on using to bring Morgan to his knees was nowhere to be seen. How had this happened? First she had refused to cry out when he had tried to show her his power. Then they had found the dark room before he was ready. Now this. She had to still be here. There were no police here, no FBI vehicles. That meant they were still in the building, hiding from him. He took out the gun he kept in his pocket.

J.J. pushed Garcia into a windowless room on the third story of the building. "Hide in the corner over there," she ordered.

Penelope had a flashback to Morgan giving the same command, as he shoved a gun in her hand and then took off after the man who had shot her. She remembered her fear for him as she heard shots ring out in the night. She shook her head. "No, J.J. I'm staying with you."

J.J. met her eyes, ready to argue. Whatever J.J. saw in Garcia's eyes stopped her in her tracks. "Fine. Do me a favor and don't get shot, because Morgan would never forgive me."

Penelope chuckled and followed J.J. down the hallway. "Do we have a plan?"

"Yup, we're going to go over there and hunker down. If he comes our way, we shoot."

At the end of the hall, there was an empty shelving unit. They slid it out from the wall, then squeezed behind it. Now all they had to do was wait.


	12. Chapter 12-Reunion

Chapter 12-Reunion

Morgan slid out of the car as soon as Hotch stopped it in front of the building. Reid appeared from across the street and Hotch came up on his left. He seemed content in letting Morgan take point. They slipped into the building. The hallway went to both the right and left. To the far left, they could see a stairwell to the second story. They cleared the right side first, then returned to clear the left hallway and started up the stairs.

On the second story, the first room they cleared had a chair standing in the center of it. Morgan was sure that this was the room where his girl had been held. They continued down the hall, one of them always watching the stairs that were behind them. They were about to enter the last room at the end of the hallway when they heard a shot sound from the next level.

Garcia heard Ford coming up the stairs. She heard him checking the first two rooms on their level. She had counted the doors when J.J. had picked their spot—there were five. She looked at J.J., met her eyes. She held up three fingers. J.J. nodded. Another door opened. Garcia lowered a finger._ Two left._

J.J. mouthed something to her. _Stay down._

Another door opened. One left.

As Ford pushed open the last door, J.J. sprang up from her hiding place. "It's over Ford."

Garcia peeked around the corner in time to see Ford bringing his gun up toward J.J. She jumped out, sideways. "Hey!" she yelled. He hesitated for a split second, distracted by Penelope's appearance. J.J. squeezed off a shot.

Morgan charged up the stairs, heart in his throat. As he came up the stairs, he saw Ford on the floor. He could see J.J. at the end of the hall, knew Penelope was there too, but he had to be sure of Ford first. There was a neat, round hole in his forehead. His eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling. Morgan kicked his gun out of the way as he moved past the body, holstering his gun.

J.J. stood at the end of the hallway, her lower half concealed by a bookshelf. And then Penelope was standing next to her in that yellow dress. Her glasses were crooked, her jaw bruised, and her neck looked terrible. Her eyes met his and she smiled, tears filling her eyes. He couldn't help it, he ran the rest of the way down the hall.

She stepped around the bookshelf and was in his arms in a second. "Woman, don't you ever scare me like that again," he whispered into her ear, closing his arms around her. She groaned and pulled back as he tightened his hold. "Whoa, baby, are you okay?"

"I think he kicked me . . . " she said.

"What else?" he whispered.

"He, um, kept choking me with a belt," she said, tears welling up in his eyes. "And he punched me. I blacked out, but I think that's it."

He nodded, pulling her gently into his arms again. "Jesus, Penelope, I thought I was going to lose it. I thought I was going to lose _you_."

"Never, baby boy. Can we go home now?"

He smiled, liking the sound of that. But first . . . "Nope, hospital for you my love." To his utter amazement, she stuck out her lip and pouted. She was absolutely the strongest, most courageous woman he had ever known.


	13. Chapter 13-Aftermath

_AN: This is it. Wild ride! Don't own CM. Sad, I know. _

Chapter 13-Aftermath

After three hours in the hospital, they were headed home. She had three broken ribs. The hospital had insisted on a rape kit, which thankfully had come up negative, because Garcia had blacked out. Morgan shuddered, realizing again how much worse things could have been. Her esophagus had been damaged by the fucker's repeated attempts to strangle her. She had told him, while they were waiting at the hospital for her to be released, how she had refused to give Ford the satisfaction of letting her cry out. He was both horrified and so immensely proud of her. She had refused to let him win. He had told her that her refusal to give him what he wanted may have made him off his game and made the rest of it possible.

He made sure she knew that it was her lead on Ford's connections the previous Friday that had made finding her possible. Without that, they wouldn't have had anything at all to go on. As they came to a stop light, he turned and looked at her. She was dressed in her favorite kitten pajamas and was wrapped in a festive blanket, both of which J.J. had brought from her apartment. She had a bandage around her neck, and her jaw was horribly bruised. She was whole and alive and here. He felt his chest tighten again. As the light turned green, he took her hand and held it tight.

Derek had a sense of déjà vu as he gently helped her from the SUV. He had done something similar when she was shot. That was the night he had first told her he loved her. She had mistaken it for a friendly kind of love, and had soon after embarked in her too-long relationship with Lynch. For reasons that he still did not understand, she considered herself beneath his "caliber" of woman. She truly was a hard head. He wouldn't let her misunderstand him tonight. He was glad, given all that had happened, that he had been flitting around the truth with her for several weeks. She could not accuse him of reacting to almost losing her. Well, she could, but it wasn't going to work.

He was pleased, but not surprised, to see that J.J. had left dinner for them when she had come to pick up clothes for Garcia. The smell of pizza met him as he entered the apartment. "Hungry?" He asked her.

She chuckled. "Other than that crap the hospital deigned to give me, I haven't eaten since dinner last night. Famished is a better term."

"How can you do that?" He asked her.

She looked at him, eyebrow raised. "Do what?"

"Just joke and laugh as if you haven't been through twelve hours of hell, baby."

"Because in the grand scheme of things, Derek, it wasn't that bad." She placed her hand over her heart. "You were right there with me, do you know that?"

He shook his head. "But I wasn't with you. I was if _fucking Chicago_."

"No, you were right there with me in my head. You kept me calm. I heard your voice all the time. And he didn't really take anything from me, other than some hours of my life. I'm alive and I'm whole and I didn't feel like I was alone because I knew you would come for me. I never doubted that you would come."

"I will always come for you. _Always_." He leaned his forehead against hers. "Since you are taking this whole being captive thing so well, could you please try not to freak out about what I am about to say?" Leave it to her to get completely bent out of shape when he told her he was in love with her, after hardly batting an eye at being beaten and held by an escaped felon.

"Umm, I can _try_," she chuckled.

He framed her face with his hands. "What I'm about to say has nothing to do with what happened today. I was coming close to saying it to you anyway. Today just reminded me that life is short and I think eight years is enough time for you to be ready for what I am going to say."

She put her hand on his chest and pulled back a bit, so that she could look him in the eyes. "Derek . . ."

He smiled. "Hush, hard head, and don't interrupt again until I've said my piece! Now where was I . . . "

To his surprise, she stood up on her tippy toes and kissed him on the lips. She smiled at him tentatively.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I have no idea when we crossed that line, Penelope, but I've been in love with you for a long time. I can't imagine my life without you, which is why I waited so damn long to tell you. I thought it was better to have you as a friend than not at all. I know now that there is no not at all—you are my future, and nothing is going to change that."

He bent down and kissed her, _really _kissed her. All of the worry and terror of the past day melted away. He was finally, absolutely home. When they broke apart, they were both breathing hard.

"I see you aren't running away screaming, crazy girl," he chuckled.

"Nope. In fact, my prince, I love you too."

He smiled. They would deal with work later. "You do realize we've had eight years of foreplay?" He asked.

"Just remember I have broken ribs . . . " she whispered, reaching up to kiss him again.

THE END


End file.
